by Shea Godfrey
*
The High King looked up from the bodies at his feet when the doors to the Great Hall shook as if some monstrous creature battered them from the other side.
Owen stumbled back a step as Jessa appeared before him, the bolt of a crossbow caught smoothly within her left hand, a foot or two before his very face. The shaft flared in a burst of white flame and she shook the ash free with an almost casual shake of her hand. He met her eyes for an instant, startled to see her smile.
The heavy, ancient wood of the Great Hall doors splintered inward and began to swing as Owen tightened the grip on his sword, and his heart let out a cruel thud. It did not take a master strategist to know they could not withstand another frontal assault.
The City Guard poured into the hall, their gray uniforms disheveled and their weapons sullied, the Grand Foyer a battlefield behind them. The captain held up his left fist and his men came to a halt behind him. Lucien Martins, one of Darry’s Boys, walked forward and stood beside the captain, his neck and tunic plastered with blood.
The High King surveyed the carnage that was the Great Hall of Blackstone Keep, and then he looked for the Lyonese princess.
Jessa moved with a purpose through the wounded and the dead alike, and he wondered how many times she might have saved his life in a battle where he had no doubt been the main target of every Sahwello warrior. Arkady Winnows followed her close, and Owen saw then what she sought with such fierce intent.
Darry stood up slowly and Jessa stepped into her arms without hesitation. His daughter embraced her lover, her newly won sword bouncing against Jessa’s hip as Darry refused to let it go.
Arkady Winnows lifted his blade into the air with a ragged shout, whereupon the call went up and the name of Durand echoed through the vast chamber.
Chapter Ten
Jessa pushed the hair back from Darry’s face as she sat beside her on the bed. “They are calling it the Siege of the Great Hall.”
“It was more of a mess, actually,” Darry whispered as a sleepy smile turned her lips.
They had chanted Darry’s name and Jessa would never forget the sound of it, for they had all been witness to her fearless charge. The wound upon Darry’s left side was deep, but nothing vital had been pierced. Jessa had only observed the Healer’s work, his careful stitches, for her hands had been too unsteady to do it herself. The bruises had turned dark already, Jessa uncertain as to what their final shade would eventually be. “I think you had best not do that again, Akasha.”
“Do what?”
“Start a fight.”
“I won’t make a promise that I probably can’t keep.”
Jessa smiled. “Well then, you had better think of something.”
“Or what?”
Jessa leaned forward until their faces were close. She saw in Darry’s eyes that the Healer’s tonic had taken hold, and it would not let go until it had its way. Darry would be asleep in moments, if her guess was true. Jessa kissed her, Darry’s lips soft and filled with heat, her lower lip slightly swollen. Jessa could taste the passionflower herbs that lingered, and the flavor was not unpleasant. “Or I shall not be kissing you again.”
Darry’s left hand slipped from her stomach and fell onto the soft fur of Hinsa’s neck, the panther fast asleep beside her Cha-Diah child as the cat took up more than her fair share of the bed. Her wounds had been seen to, though she had let no one but Jessa touch her.
Hinsa had at last made her presence known to all, and within the Great Hall, everyone had stood still and silent as the great cat had moved through the dead to stand at Jessa’s side. At the time, Jessa had gauged the wound to be the least of the panther’s worries, for several warriors had drawn their bows and taken aim, uncertain as to how they should respond.
It had been the queen who had shouted for them to lower their weapons, and Grissom’s men had done so, though reluctantly. They had left the hall in peace with Jemin McNeely—a dark-skinned warrior from Artanis and one of Darry’s Boys—in the lead. He carried Darry in his arms as they went, the rest of their small band close behind.
The panther’s purr moved through the covers and the feather mattress and Jessa had no doubt there would be explaining to do, though she was still wondering about Cecelia’s initial reaction. She had ordered everyone out of the great cat’s way, including her shocked husband. Her tone had brooked absolutely no argument from anyone, and even the king had obeyed.
“I think the queen recognized you, Biscuit,” Jessa whispered, and perhaps Cecelia had. No doubt that night so long ago, trapped within the maze as her daughter slept beneath the jaws of a wild panther, had left a permanent impression. Such a thing as that, a mother would most likely never forget.
“What if I tell you first?” Darry’s voice was a mere ghost of sound as her eyes closed and she began to drift in earnest.
“Before you start a fight?”
“Yes.”
Jessa considered the offer and then sat back. “Fair enough.” A moment later, Darry’s soft, deep breathing signaled to Jessa that her lover slept.
There was a raspy cough from across the room and Jessa turned, tired herself but knowing that it would have to wait. Her eyes searched beside the hearth. “Are you well, old woman?”
Radha dropped the shawl from about her head and her spell fell away as if it were water. For a moment, the chair beside her faded from the light as if made of air. “I am well,” Radha answered, though her voice was rougher than usual, and more quiet than Jessa had ever heard it.
Jessa rose from the bed and moved across the room with a purpose. “Radha.”
Radha stepped into the embrace. “You did well, child.”
Jessa leaned back. “What in the name of the Vhaelin did you think you were doing?” she demanded, a slight edge to her voice. She thought her tone was appropriate, however, so she did not temper it as she might have. “Where is Serabee? Is he dead?”
Radha adjusted the heavy scarf about her neck and shoulders and stepped to the chair, which was now as solid as ever. Jessa reached out quickly and helped her to sit, unaccustomed to the exposed fragility in the old woman’s step. It worried her a great deal, but she was uncertain about what she might do to change things.
“I know not where he went, child”—Radha covered her mouth as she cleared her throat again—“though go he did.”
“Where?” Jessa knelt beside the chair and gazed up, her hands upon Radha’s knees. The thought that Serabee was out there was not a comforting one, though she could not deny that she was glad he was gone, if only temporarily.
Radha gave a raspy chuckle. “I told you, I do not know.”
“Where, Radha?” Jessa insisted. “If you don’t know, then tell me where you think.”
“Most likely, he has run for the skirts of the Butcher.”
“After failing to win his purpose? Bharjah might very well kill him, if he can.”
“Did he fail in everything?”
Jessa frowned as they fell into their familiar game, the pieces moved about the board without any pretense or preamble. “I do not wish to play, old woman.”
“And was it Bharjah’s ambition he served?”
“King Owen lives, Radha, and the Sahwello dead are being stacked in the field beyond the north wall, even as I speak. And if it was not Bharjah, then who ordered such an assault?”
“The game is in play, girl, follow the pieces.”
Jessa knew very well there was a game in motion, but at the moment she was much too exhausted to even look at the board. Was it Bharjah’s will, or that of Serabee El-Khan? Or perhaps Joaquin had finally made his move, though she thought of Serabee standing in the Great Hall as he called out his challenge. He had confronted Darry, though, not the king and not the Durand name. He had called out to the Yellow Hair. It is your thread upon the wheel that matters…
“Sheeva,” Jessa mumbled. “Let me see your neck,” she added, and her left hand pulled with care at Radha’s scarf. “You cannot hide your wounds
from me.”
Radha slapped her hand away. “You can teach me nothing about the healing arts, child, that I do not already know. It is a hard wound, but I will be fine with time. Are the pieces in your mind? Do you see the board?”
“I see them”—Jessa sighed—“even as I see a glass of cool spring wine and fresh fruit to soothe the ache in my belly. I see a bath, with water so hot that I can barely stand it. And I see my lover naked beneath me, causing me to speak in ancient tongues, for she is beyond my best dreams, and I have no words for what she does to me.”
Radha’s chuckle was quiet but filled with delight.
“I’m very tired, Radha, I need no lectures. The king has summoned us in but a few hours, and I need to sleep.”
“Your mind shall ponder things while you rest, you needn’t fear.”
“Come to the divan and lie down.”
“We have no time for that.”
“Do not tax me, old woman, or I will carry you there myself.”
“Jessa-Sirrah.”
Jessa reacted to the use of her full name and sat back upon her heels, her hands folded upon her lap. It was a familiar moment and Jessa found comfort in it, despite her unease at their conversation.
Radha smiled, and her soft, old hand peeked out from her sleeve, her fingers gentle as they tapped Jessa’s cheek. “Where did you go in the Great Hall?”
Jessa gave a rueful smile. “You miss nothing, old woman.”
“Where?”
“It was not so much where…” Jessa began, her thoughts fast and clean despite the aches of exhaustion. “As when.”
“Ah.” Radha gave a nod. “I felt you go and stay at the same time.”
“I did not weave the spell,” Jessa admitted. “I’m not even sure what it was, or if there were runes to hold it fast. It was…it was a shift, as if a door had opened and I stepped through it. But it was smooth, no more than taking a breath.”
“To when did you go?”
Jessa wondered what Radha’s reaction would be. “I stood within a sea of grass and spoke with Neela.”
Radha hissed in her breath and leaned against the back of the chair. She batted an angry hand at the air and let out a disgruntled sound. “I have sought that for many years!”
“Radha?”
The old woman’s eyes were fierce. “Yes?”
“Did you not tell me once that Tannen Ahru was a man?”
Radha let out a gruff sound. “Not exactly.”
Jessa felt her eyes flare, fairly certain of the comment that was to follow.
“But I did not dissuade you when you made the assumption, this I admit.”
“Damn you, Radha.”
“And what should I have done?” Radha countered. “It is not wise for anyone to know their fate completely. With such knowledge, one tends to step to the left, when before, one might have moved to the right.” Radha gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Everyone thinks they are in control, and if they are not, they are determined that it should be so, no matter what the gods may say. You most of all, child. Being a prisoner has done you no favors in this regard.”
“I have always done as you have asked.”
“You have listened, at the least, and this is the most anyone may hope for from their child. What did Neela have to say?”
“We walk the same thread.”
Radha remained silent.
“What, you have nothing to say to that?”
“I have known this since you were born. What else?”
“I think…I think Darry and Tannen Ahru walk the same thread, as well.”
Radha laughed and her pale blue eyes lit up like the noonday sun. “You think, or you know?”
“All right, I know it,” Jessa admitted. It was a thrilling revelation, but she was uncertain of what it would mean for them. Neela and Tannen were the greatest legends her people had ever known. “Senesh Akoata is at play.”
“Did you ever think it was otherwise, child?” Radha’s tone was that of a tired teacher, one who had waited many years for her pupil to understand.
“I have not taxed you so darkly, have I?”
Radha took a careful breath and settled more comfortably in her chair. “No, child, though I have waited some time for you to see the threads that reach back. Back through the ages and into the heart of your own blood.”
“But you never told me the stories as you should have, as I asked you. Tell me more of Neela, I would say, and you would not. Tell me more of Tannen Ahru, I would say, and again you would not. So many secrets on your part, that I thought Tannen was a man, Radha.”
“And yet you stole through my scrolls for the stories you wanted, yes?”
“Of course I did.”
“And what did you find?”
“Only what you wanted me to, apparently,” Jessa accused in a dry tone.
Radha laughed, the sound careful as she protected her throat. “Do not be sore, Princess. Your love for Darrius is true and unfettered by old expectations. You have no ancient dreams to live up to, or prophecies to argue with in the dead of night. You have only your lover, for whom you have killed and would crumble mountains to the ground. You hold the heart of a panther in your hand, and it is good and right, and it makes your knees weak. Her passion rattles your bones, and you love it, every moment of it, and it came to both of you as it should, pure and untouched by anyone’s need but your own. What more must you know?”
Jessa considered the old woman’s words, though it did not take her long. She looked to the bed once more. “What rules did you break by not telling me?”
“The Vhaelin love free will above all other things, child. What would I be, if I had stolen such from you?”
“I do not care who she is,” Jessa whispered. “She is mine now.”
“I’m not blind, girl,” Radha replied. “I don’t care either if you must know. Now tell me of your majik.”
Jessa’s eyes locked on to Radha’s and held tight. “The spells I wove, they came to me with very little thought behind them. The Hawk’s Eye and the Ashes of Blood. The Song of Steel.”
“That is a hard one to hold,” Radha said with respect, “the Song of Steel.”
“Yes, and I have never spoken the runes before, as well you know.” Jessa’s voice held an edge once more. “If I am not in control of my own majik, then we are all in a very lot of—”
“You were quite in control and you know it, or you would not be here.” Radha’s tone was sharp. “You drew upon the panther’s strength, yes?”
Jessa rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead. “It was everywhere, Radha.” She glanced toward the bed. “I could actually breathe it in…It was magnificent.”
“You make a good pair, Jessa. Even as you once did, long ago.”
Jessa gave her a tired smile. “There’s something to think about, yes?”
“You are ready now.”
Jessa let the moment hang in the quiet between them, though not for long. “Ready for what?”
“The spells you wove upon this day, my child, are not the spells of a Vhaelin witch, nor are they the spells of a Shaman. They are the runes of a Vhaelin priestess. And do not think I make this decision lightly, for I do not, I assure you. I will bestow upon you the mantle you have earned, and I will tell you the truth of it at last. But first and foremost, I shall gift you with my scrolls.”
Jessa let out a breath of surprise.
“And so in this matter, it is the custom that you must make your own way, child, without my help and without my guidance. For if you wish to take my rank from me, that is exactly what you must do.”
“I do not wish your title, Radha. You are the High Priestess of the Vhaelin, and that is as it should be. I want no such responsibility.”
“No?” Radha demanded, her tone stinging just a bit. “You took your place on that road when your true thoughts called me a fool in the Great Hall and told me that the battle was not mine to fight. Now, when we sit safe in the warmth of a fire, with o
ur bellies full of karrem and the blood washed away, you may not play the apprentice simply because you wish for the familiar comfort of my presence.”
Jessa’s face was hot with shame. “I’m sorry, Radha. I did not want you hurt, that is all. I love you, old woman, and you know it.”
“I know this, just as I know that love was your motivation. But you chose the road of your power regardless, no matter how flattering the reasons may be to me. I’m not saying you were wrong,” Radha explained. “Serabee is stronger than I gave him credit for, and perhaps I was too arrogant, as you have chided me, more than once. But I have been fighting this battle for three generations of our people, and I have sacrificed everything I have ever loved—save for you, my child. I have more than earned my place in this struggle.”
Jessa took Radha’s hands within her own. “Yes, this I know. I’m sorry.”
“So my scrolls are yours, Jessa-Sirrah, and there you shall find all the knowledge you will need, though perhaps, not all the wisdom.”
Jessa smiled. “This is why I have you, my sweet.”
“This is your path, child, not mine. I have my own to seek, and it is high time I was on my way. If you wish my rank and the spells of the Vhaelin Blood Fires, you must earn them. By our custom you must make your own way now, as a Vhaelin priestess of our Clan. And when you are ready to claim the mantle of High Priestess? You, my child, will have to come to me.”
Jessa stared at her. “What does that mean?”
“Do not look so stricken, Jessa-Sirrah, or play the innocent. You know what it means. You have come into your power. You are a woman full grown, with the might of the Vhaelin at your fingertips and the passion and strength of a lover by your side. And she is no ordinary lover, to be sure. Not a woman to be carrying your trunks of dresses and scrolls. She is Darrius Lauranna Durand, and she walks the thread of Tannen Ahru. And I tell you now, I’ll not soon forget how the Golden Panther danced the steps of Honshi within a sea of Fakir,” Radha said with a smile. “You have little to fear from the world from this point on, unless you find such darkness in your own heart.”